


L.A. Made Me

by smithereen



Category: American Idol RPF, Disney RPF, Jonas Brothers
Genre: First Meetings, In Public, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-10
Updated: 2011-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-24 11:24:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithereen/pseuds/smithereen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then they make out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	L.A. Made Me

Break-ups suck. Even when you're the one who ended it. Because yeah, Joe doesn't think he and Demi were working, doesn't think he was wrong to end it before they got in deeper. He's not sorry. He wasn't wrong. But it's not as easy as just saying it's over. Now it's in the news, and there are a million people calling him a jerk on the Internet, and every time he's in the same room with Demi all he can think is that he ruined everything. That she's never going to laugh at his jokes again. That now when he does something stupid-fun she's just going to think it's stupid instead of thinking it's fun. That it's going to be this awkward, strained tension between them for the rest of time. He doesn't want to believe that this is what it's going to be like. He doesn't want to be the kind of guy who hurts awesome girls like Demi Lovato.

It just sucks that's all.

So when Lisa calls and invites him to come out with some of her friends, out to the kind of club he usually doesn't go to because it's just not worth the headlines, he says what the hell. He feels like he needs a break from it. From worrying about the tour, about all those interviews he and Demi are going to have to do together when _Camp Rock_ airs. From feeling like he has to justify himself to people he doesn't even know. From the fact that every move he makes feels like a PR land mine waiting to explode. He's just going to hang out. Maybe stop thinking for a little while about why he sucks so much at girls, why he can't seem to stop being the bad guy. Maybe stop thinking.

*

Lisa gives Joe this look right when they walk up to the table where her friends are waiting in the closed off VIP area at the back of the club, like she isn't sure if Joe's going to be freaked out or something. Which okay, Joe doesn't know that many guys who wear as much make-up as her friend Adam is wearing. There's a difference between TV make-up and the smeared eyeliner Adam has on, the thick eye-shadow that looks black until the light hits it just right, and then it looks blue. His hair is like five feet tall with this electric blue chunk right in the front of it. And he's wearing this crazy leather jacket with spikes and stuff on the shoulders, and this metal fringey stuff on the sleeves that Joe instantly wants to touch. He doesn't dress like anyone Joe's ever sat down and had a conversation with. Not in a bad way. Joe kind of thinks it's awesome. He looks like he's about to go somewhere really exciting, like he's dressed up to go somewhere imaginary right after he leaves here.

"Hello, Pretty," Adam says as he stands up. He's really tall. He looks Joe over as he shakes Joe's hand, slowly, like he doesn't care if Joe notices him looking.

"I'm Joe." Joe wishes he had on something a little more interesting than jeans and plaid, like a mask or at least a hat with feathers on it or something. He feels really boring all of a sudden, but Adam smiles brightly at him like he doesn't mind that Joe's not really as cool as the rest of the people at the table, all of them sparkly and bright looking like they were tropical birds in a past life. Joe smiles back. Adam stares at him a little too long, so long Joe's face starts to feel kind of hot even though the air conditioner is blasting. Adam's eyes narrow, and he darts a look over at Lisa.

"Behave," she says.

He shakes his head a tiny bit, mouth crimping in the corners. "I hate you," he mouths at her. She makes a kissy face. He still hasn't really let go of Joe's hand. His fingernails are black, and his eyes are really, really blue. "This is Joe," Adam says to everyone who's lounging around the table. He finally lets go of Joe's hand. "Try not to scare him away."

Adam makes little shoo-ing motions with his hands and everyone shifts around in the circular booth to make room. Adam's hand touches the small of Joe's back as Joe slides in with Lisa on one side of him and Adam on the other. His leg is pressed up against Joe's, the two of them squeezed in close on the squishy soft seat. He drapes his arm across the back of the booth behind Joe's head, and reaches down to pat Joe's shoulder. "So tell me about your favorite song," he says. "Not the one you tell people is your favorite because you think it makes you sound like a _serious musician_ , the one that honestly gets the most plays on your itunes." He smiles, cocking his head like he's really listening, like he's really curious.

Joe likes him a lot.

*

Adam's kind of drunk. Not super drunk, just sometimes he goes a little vague, stares a little bit too hard like he's trying to make his eyes work right. And he's kind of affectionate. Like, he plays absently with the hair at the nape of Joe's neck while he's talking, and he grabs Joe's knee when he gets excited about something. And he gives a lot of hugs. Joe doesn't really mind it like he might mind if it was somebody else. They're really good hugs. Some people give crappy hugs; they either let go too soon or they hold on too long. And in LA a lot of people give hugs they don't even mean, like you can feel them lying to you with their arms. Adam gives the best hugs. He has these wide shoulders, and he smells really nice, and he holds on just long enough that you know he really means it.

He's basically the nicest person Joe's met in LA in a really long time. He talks to Joe like he's in a real band instead of in this way some people do where you can tell even if they don't say it that they think you're a joke. He buys Joe's drinks, and he doesn't make fun of the fact that Joe's orange juice doesn't have any vodka in it. He's easy to talk to. Joe's kind of- Sometimes he's really good at meeting people, like he knows he's being funny and he has a lot to say and he can tell people are liking him. Sometimes, though, he just feels like that kid he used to be before all this started; he goes uncertain and blank and quiet and he has to force himself to pretend. With Adam, it's easy to be someone interesting and fun. There's something about him that makes you feel like you don't have to be nervous even though you just met him and you think maybe he's smarter than you are. Joe finds himself spilling his guts about Demi, and how he feels like an asshole, and how he kind of thinks he won't ever be able to figure out why he keeps getting it all wrong. Stuff he's only told Nick, and stuff he hasn't even told anyone. There's something about Adam that makes him feel like it's okay to say things out loud.

It's just that he really _listens_ , and everything he says sounds really _true_. He talks about his ex-boyfriend, how they're friends now, how breaking up doesn't always have to mean you lose someone you love. He tells Joe that he did the right thing if it wasn't working with Demi, that it's better he didn't string her along. A lot of people have told Joe that, but for some reason he kind of believes it when Adam's leaning in close, with his arm draped warm over Joe's shoulder, and his voice raised to yell over the music.

"You're still young," Adam says. "You're supposed to be making mistakes and trying new things and screwing up your love life. That's how you figure out who you are." His elbow is crooked over Joe's shoulder, and Joe runs his fingers along the fringe on Adam's jacket, brushing it with his palm to make the metal jingle. "That's how you get ready for the real thing."

He's just really nice. He's a super nice guy.

*

"You do realize he's hitting on you," Lisa says when Adam gets up to go to the bathroom.

"What?" Joe laughs. He frowns disapprovingly at her. "Just because he's gay doesn't mean he's hitting on every guy he talks to."

"No," Lisa agrees. "But he's definitely hitting on you." She raises an eyebrow. "And you're kind of flirting back. Just so you know."

"I'm not _flirting_ ," Joe says. "No one's flirting."

"He calls you Pretty."

"So? He calls you Gorgeous," Joe scoffs.

"There's an awful lot of hugging going on. That's all I'm saying."

Joe lunges over and hugs her tightly, squeezing until her ribs must be creaking. He nuzzles into the curve of her neck. "I like hugs," he says. She laughs, elbowing him off. "Why would he be flirting with me?" Joe says. Guys have been coming up to their table all night, and most of them are a lot hotter than Joe. Hotter and more sparkly, more like they'd be the kind of thing Adam would want. "He could have any guy in here." Lisa raises an eyebrow, and Joe realizes that didn't come out exactly right. "And he knows I'm straight," he adds. "We've been talking about my ex-girlfriend for half an hour."

"I've seen him go home with straighter guys than you."

Joe shoves her away from him, rolling his eyes. "It's not like that."

"Come dance with me, Pretty," Adam says when he gets back. He strips off his jacket and tosses it carelessly over the back of the booth. He looks a little different without the spikes and the leather and everything, like how football players look different when they take off their pads. He has on a long sleeved black shirt underneath and it scoops down enough that Joe can see the bare curve of his shoulder, see that there are freckles on his pale skin. He's wearing about a million necklaces, and his belt buckle is gigantic. Joe stares at it, notices absently the way his pants are slung low on his narrow hips. Joe ignores it when Lisa digs her fingernails into his arm, when she glares meaningfully at him. Ignores the worried look she shoots him when he lets Adam tug him out of the booth. Adam keeps a firm grip on his hand as they push their way onto the dance floor.

*

Joe kind of loves to dance, but he's under no illusions that he's actually good at it. Luckily, he's never been super worried about looking like an idiot. The music is loud, and it has a shout along chorus, a deep-pounding bassline. He bounces up onto his toes, getting a feel for the pulse of it. Adam grins at him encouragingly, his hips slinking from side to side, his head moving sharply with the beat. His eyebrows flick up challengingly. Joe grins back at him, imitates the shoulder pop Adam shimmies into, tries to make his body move with that same elastic swerve. The dance floor is packed, bodies brushing against him, bumping into him. Adam crooks a finger in his belt loop and tugs, pulls him away from the guy who's dancing behind Joe, who's dancing a little too close.

Adam's hands settle on Joe's hips, fingers spread wide and warm. He guides Joe in closer, close enough that he almost brushes against Adam every time they move. He pushes a little against Joe's hips, making it easier for Joe to follow, to imitate the way his body moves. Joe doesn't really know what to do with his hands. There's not enough room between them for Joe to fall back on his default dance move, the robot arms. Adam grabs on to one of Joe's wrists and reaches up and up to drape Joe's arm around Adam's neck, and okay. That works. Adam's curled fingers trail lightly back down Joe's arm. Joe tips his head back, watching the flashing lights turn Adam's skin bright blue, bright pink. Adam's arm wraps around Joe's waist, pulling him closer until he's snugged up tight enough to feel every sway of Adam's hips against his own. He can feel the sweat on the back of Adam's neck slick against the inside of his arm. He can feel the heat of Adam's skin through his shirt. He can feel the slow stiffness of Adam getting hard in his tight jeans. Joe hopes his cheeks are already too flushed from the heat for the blush to show. Adam either doesn't notice or doesn't care, singing along with the song and smiling down at Joe. Joe's shirt slips, Adam's hand curling over the hot skin of his waist. Joe pants a little, sweating. Moving with the music, moving into Adam, eyes closing when he feels the jostle of Adam's dick pressed up against him.

*

"We should probably head out," Lisa says to Joe when he and Adam tumble back into the booth. The back of Joe's shirt is soaked with sweat, and he feels like he can't catch his breath. He's pretty hard, his jeans uncomfortably tight. Adam slouches next to him, scrunched down so his head is on Joe's shoulder, his long legs stretched way, way out under the table.

"Do you have to?" Adam turns his head on Joe's shoulder to see him better. He's been running his hands through his hair, and whatever had been keeping it in place is losing its hold. His eyeliner's gotten more smudged, bleeding at the corner of his eyes. There's plenty of space to spread out at the table now that the rest of the crowd has cleared out, but Joe stays where he is.

Joe looks over at Lisa. "I could hang out a while," he says.

"Yay!" Adam says cheerfully. He sprawls all over Joe, arm around his waist, chin crooked over Joe's shoulder. He makes Joe feel really short. In kind of a good way.

Lisa glares at Adam like she's trying to burn a hole in his eye sockets. He smiles slow and lazy, and shakes his head as if she said something instead of just looking really hard. "Maybe I should stay too then," she says more to Adam than to Joe.

Joe knows what she thinks, but it's not- It's not like anything's going to happen, not like that. He brushes the edge of his hand against his dick casually, pulling at the leg of his jeans to give himself a little more room. It's not that. Joe's just not ready to go home yet. "I have my car," Joe says. "If you need to go."

"He's safe with me," Adam says, smiling innocently.

Lisa snorts. "Whatever. Nobody's paying me to baby-sit." She touches Joe's arm before she scoots out of the booth. "Be careful," she says, voice low. She's not just talking about the fact that she thinks Adam's trying to get in Joe's pants or whatever. Joe's not dumb. He gets what it would mean if he stumbled out of a club like this in the middle of the night with a drunk Adam Lambert. If someone took a picture of that.

Joe's kind of sick of spending his whole life trying not to have the wrong picture taken.

*

There are just a few people left making out on the dance floor, and the VIP section has emptied out. They're alone at the table, sitting right in the middle of the bend in the booth's horseshoe curve. They've made themselves comfortable, Joe sideways on the couch, his legs draped over Adam's lap. "What about this one?" Joe says, pulling the ring off Adam's forefinger. He has a ring on practically every finger. He has his hand on Joe's knee. Joe puts the ring on his thumb. It's a huge silver thing with turquoise in the middle.

"My mom gave me that one," Adam says. "When I was not that much older than you." He makes a little face. "So a really long time ago, basically." He pulls off the ring on his pinky and hands it to Joe. "This one is cool. I got this one in Japan a couple months ago when I was doing some promo."

"I want to go to Japan." Joe slips it onto his pinky. It's sort of too big, but he holds his hand out in front of him to see how it looks. He wrinkles up his nose. "Yeah, I don't think I can pull this off."

Adam laughs, and puts both rings back on his own fingers. "You can pull off anything if you commit to it." He holds onto Joe's hand, his thumb tracing the lines on Joe's palm. He pushes at the ring on Joe's ring finger with his thumb, slides it slowly around and around. He doesn't ask Joe where he got it, or what it means. Everyone already knows what it means. Adam twists at it, but he doesn't take it off Joe's hand. "You take this pretty seriously, huh?" He meets Joe's eyes. Joe goes hot all over all at once. His hand curls in on itself, squeezing closed around Adam's thumb.

He nods slowly. "Yeah," he says. He feels like his heart is beating hard enough to shake him apart. Adam nods too, his big, warm fingers wrapped tightly around the back of Joe's wrist. He's staring at Joe's mouth, and he's leaning. Joe is watching him lean.

"I think I'm going to do something really stupid now," Adam whispers, his forehead touching Joe's. His nose brushes against Joe's cheek as he tilts his head. He kisses Joe lightly, his lips soft, a little slick with lip gloss.

Joe thought he was going to be surprised, but he's not. It doesn't feel like surprise as Adam coaxes his mouth open with teasing little pushes, his lips catching, holding each time he presses in again. Joe sucks on Adam's lower lip, opens for the slick slide of his tongue, feels his hand curled big and hot against the back of Joe's neck. He grabs at Adam's ribs, grabs a handful of his shirt, and pulls Adam down, closer, arching up into him, trying to get _closer_. Adam's hand cups Joe's crotch through his jeans, a firm press against his trapped dick. He's so hard. He's been hard for so long. He shoves his hips desperately into Adam's hand, and gasps into Adam's wet, hot mouth and doesn't think about the fact that all it would take right now is one person with a camera phone. Just one picture. Doesn't think about it. That's all it would take. Doesn't think-

He pulls back with a whimper, mouth wet, hands still tight in Adam's shirt, pulling. "Can't." His hips are moving jaggedly, pressing his needy dick into Adam's hand. "If someone saw-" Adam's eyes are heavy-lidded, vague, his tongue flicking out against his swollen lips as he stares at Joe's mouth, at the bent back curve of Joe's throat.

"Okay," Adam says, thick-tongued. He tips his head down to take another hard kiss, Joe opening easily for the heat of his mouth. He's panting when Adam pulls back, his hips working anxiously against Adam's hand, his dick a hard throb between his legs. He makes a small sound at the back of his throat, feeling too hot, trying to think past how badly he wants- "Okay, baby," Adam says, soothing, petting the hair back from Joe's forehead. "Come here." He manhandles Joe easily, shifts him over so Joe's sitting in front of him between Adam's spread legs. "Let me help you."

Joe can feel the hard pressure of Adam's dick behind him. He sags heavily, mouth going slack, fighting not to lean backward into the heat of his chest, not to press himself helplessly against the hard bulge of his dick. "Can't-" Joe mutters, head tipping forward as Adam presses his lips to the back of Joe's neck.

"It's okay," Adam whispers into his ear. "No one's here." Joe bites his lip and shakes his head. "If someone comes in they won't be able to tell." He raps on the underside of the table with his knuckles. "See?" Joe stares blankly at the table, at the wet rings on the shiny dark lacquer in front of him. Adam tugs his zipper down, cups his dick, his balls through the damp fabric of his underwear. Joe shudders, eyes half closing. He can't see anything but the table. It's not- He knows it's not actually safe, but- "Do you want me to stop?" Adam says seriously, and he's not touching Joe anymore. He puts his hands carefully on the couch on either side of his legs.

Joe curls in on himself a little, curls around the way his dick aches, stiff and leaking, the way he feels tight inside all the way up his spine, all the way up his throat like everything in him is swollen. He hesitates, his fist rubbing anxiously against his leg, high up on his thigh. This is a mistake, probably. Definitely. This is such a huge mistake. This could be their career, this could end everything. He can't-

"Tell me what you want, Pretty," Adam says gently, hunching down so his chin is on Joe's shoulder. He presses a soft, sweet kiss to the side of Joe's neck.

Joe lets out a deep shaky breath, feels a lot of things rush up that he never lets himself- That he's so used to swallowing back down, he mostly doesn't notice they're even there. Things he knows he can't have, want, say. But there's something about Adam that makes it seem like it's okay to say stuff out loud. "Don't stop," he breathes.

Sometimes he just wants to be able to make his own mistakes.

His chest heaves with a single, relieved almost sob when Adam's hand circles his dick. He's already messy wet with wanting, and Adam's hand slides easily, feels huge and hot. Joe's hips roll in needy little jerks, trying to get more than Adam's giving him. Adam flattens a palm on his belly, holds him steady against Adam's body, holds him still. He can feel Adam's hard-on, big and stiff behind him, rubbing up against him through too much fabric. He can feel Adam's broad chest, Adam's arms, Adam legs boxing him in, like being surrounded. He leans back into the rise and fall of Adam's breathing, gasps when Adam nuzzles into his neck, bites at the top of his ear. Adam tugs quick and purposeful on Joe's dick, like he knows how badly Joe needs to come. Like he's tugging right at that tightening heat, pulling it tighter and tighter until Joe's trying to buck against the hand Adam has pressed to his ribs. Until he's trembling and gasping for breath. Until his hand is holding so tight to the edge of the table that his fingers ache.

"It's okay, Pretty," Adam murmurs. "I've got you."

His hand twists on Joe's dick just right, and Joe lets out a long, too loud whimper as his toes curl under the table, as his back arches, straining. As he squeezes his eyes shut and comes in long, shuddering pulses.

He sags limply into the curve of Adam's body, heavy, wrung out, letting Adam hold him up. Adam licks at the thick come on his hand, tongue flattening over his palm. He sucks at the tip of a finger. Joe feels a too soon pulse of down low heat. Adam smiles when he sees Joe watching. "That was nice," he says. He tucks Joe's dick neatly back into his underwear and carefully zips him back up.

"You didn't-" Joe says, voice cracking a little. He can still feel the hard press of Adam's dick behind him.

"That was just for you," Adam says.

"But didn't you want to..."

"The things I want to do to you…" He trails off a little, looking at Joe like he's something Adam wants to eat right up. "Are not things you're ready for." He adds primly, "I'm a gentleman." He grins suddenly, smirks really. "But I promise I'll think of you later when I'm getting off."

Joe laughs, shocked, feels a blush creep up the back of his neck. Adam's face goes a little pained. "So pretty," he says, and grabs hold of Joe's face, his big hands cupping Joe's neck, the back of his head. His lips slide plush and wet against Joe's. Joe opens for the slow, hot push of Adam's tongue, and tangles his fingers in Adam's hair, and doesn't think about the fact that all it would take is one person with a camera phone.

Doesn't think.

End


End file.
